


Trinity Church

by oncetherelivedaboy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Kinda, Reincarnation, idk tagging things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8299303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncetherelivedaboy/pseuds/oncetherelivedaboy
Summary: She stands at the edge of the graveyard, she isn’t sure what brought her here, to a church of all places. Snow covered the graves and dead grass in a layer of soft white powder. She pushed through the gate, the metal cold against her bare hand, paint flaking on her palm and she brushed it away when it had shut behind her.





	

She stands at the edge of the graveyard, she isn’t sure what brought her here, to a church of all places, in the middle of New York City, the cars buzzing past her, and the swell of the crowds that passed by her, more annoyed by the fact that she was stopped in the walkway. Snow covered the graves and dead grass in a layer of soft white powder. She pushed through the gate, the metal cold against her bare hand, paint flaking and she brushed it away when it had shut behind her. 

What was she doing here? Why had she continued down the path? Her hair had been left down and she had no idea why she’d worn her only dark dress in the middle of winter, it barely covered her knees and the tights offered little protection, there were light snow flurries against her black peacoat. Why was she here? She was supposed to be meeting with friends for lunch today and instead she was in the stupid cold graveyard, and yet she continued, unable to stop herself. She could feel emotions that were not her own welling up into her chest, the cold making it hard to take breaths and her eyes burned. 

She saw the sign ‘Trinity Church’, and her heart hurt. She didn’t understand why she was here. She thought she was losing her mind, her toes were numb in the flats she regretted wearing and her ears felt raw in the cold weather. She continued down the path, and took a small branching section. 

She found herself standing over a grave, brushed away the snow to reveal the engraving, she found the dates first, 1778-1801. 23 years old, barely an adult. The tears fell as she found the name and she had no idea why, she knew no one of the name, hadn’t even heard of the boy, he was no one. Just a boy who’d died over 200 years ago. Why did she care, why was she crying as if he had been her child? Why did she feel this grief over a boy she never knew? 

She found herself walking again, wiping away the tears that kept falling and her feet faltering, she stopped again. Crouching to wipe the snow from the name, Angelica Schuyler, died in 1814. She had a sister named Angelica, a beautiful girl with the sharpest wit and a mind for literary achievements. The woman shared a name with her sister but that didn’t explain why she felt this, a name was nothing. 

A larger memorial caught her eye and then she was walking that way, she’d grown numb to the cold, her eyes failing to focus behind the tears. Her movements mechanical, deliberate, only it wasn’t her, she wasn’t herself. Reading the name brought her to her knees, she felt the skin of her knees tear as she hit the stone. Her breath caught in her throat. She stayed like that for far too long, face in her hands and the cold seeping into her legs, blood spilling onto the pathway and her tears spilling out of her hands. She remembered. 

Dancing at the ball. The war, the revolution, their marriage. He worked too much, worked until his fingers practically bled, and when his hands hurt he’d dictate it to her and she’d scribble out the words as fast as she could. His outbursts and their children. Philip, and she felt it all spill out again, Philip, her son. The election and then the duel with Burr, her husband gone.

She jumped when a hand fell onto her shoulder. 

“My dearest Betsey.” The words echoed in her ears and she turned her head to see him. 

“Alexander.” Barely a breath as he knelt down next to her and they embraced, his face buried in her neck.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.” He says. “I never meant..”

“Shut up.” She musters, the tears that fall are no longer those of the loss she’d felt over a hundred years. “You’re back.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote something, I hate that it wasn't a continuation though because I need to do that. This is kind of a weird story because it isn't really a story it's like a scene but whatever, I thought it was kinda cool.  
> tumblr is oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com and I take requests, comments are greatly appreciated.


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